Greeting Death
by Dallas'Drabbles
Summary: Uhm, angst and character death.
1. Chapter 1

_"Kid!"_

The weapons' words rang across the battle field, sheer panic engulfing his tone.

No—This wasn't happening, not now. It couldn't—It was Kid, he was a Reaper for Death's sake, he was okay—Right? An attack like that wouldn't stop him, right?

Then why wasn't he getting up? Why was his blood pooling out around him? why were the sisters crouched over his motionless body?

No…This was wrong, it was all wrong.

The scythe's Meister, Maka, had taking down the last clown on their end just in time for the weapon to transform back and rush to the falling Reaper's side—The one on that end being taking care of soon after the boy's failure by the professor and Death Scythe.

Now there was only silence, pure, nerve wracking silence.

Dropping to his knees crimson eyes scanned over the motionless Meister, hands scurrying over his torso and finding the wound—

Straight through his heart.

No—This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't!

"Kid—Kid come on, Kid, say something!"

He begged, tone drowning out with fright and worry, features twisted with agony and complete and utter heart break. Trembling now his hand went down to grip the other's firmly, fingers wrapping around as he only continued to beg for some kind of sign that he was alive.

And there it was, a weak, long groan that passed the boy, blood being coughed out as his expression went from one of nothing to one of pure pain, his once motionless hand gripping the weapon's back, weakly, but it was still something.

"Nn—Soul…?"

"I'm here Kid, I'm here—You're going to be okay, you hear me? You're going to be okay. Look at me, please, look at me."

With eyes half lidded the weakest of smiles tugged at his lips, though, his head shook just slightly—Which made the scythe's heart sink straight down into his stomach.

"No—Kid come on, hang in there you're going to be okay just hang in there—"

"I love you…"

Tears welled within his golden orbs, though, his smile never did leave, it was almost ominous—He knew what was going on, exactly what was happening to his body and what had happened.

He was greeting death with open arms.

Slowly but surely the grip on Soul's hand was gone, there was nothing—Not one little sign, just a limp hand within his own, eyes going wide as tears streamed down his cheeks.

No…This wasn't right—It couldn't end like this…No.

"Ki-Kid? _Kid!_"


	2. Chapter 2

Months went by, slow, silent, and lonely months. Everyday the same, nothing ever changed, not anymore. He never got those late night visits, a good morning smile and kiss, hands together as they walked into the school yard.

Nothing anymore.

It was all lost. Every shred of hope, lost.

Why did this happen? Why now? So early—He had so much more to live for, they're only 17, they were together for two years, could you believe that? Neither could he.

And with one fatal strike, it was gone.

Just a distant memory, nothing else now.

Sure, he kept items that Kid had giving him, hell, that day he had carried the Reaper back, he kept that shirt—His own, blooded, but that's not why.

It still smelt like him. Passed all the irony scent of the blood, it had the scent of Kid. No, he couldn't explain the smell, of course not, it was unique, all of it's own. He had that shirt, wrapped up and hanging in his closet, Black Star told him it was creepy and he had to throw it out—But of course he didn't listen, because no one else understood why.

But he just couldn't get rid of it.

Now here he was, months later, locked up in his room like any other night—Why? Because grief was setting in again. It'd been so long, why couldn't he just get over it?

It wasn't fair! Why'd they take him? Why him out of everybody—He had so much more, he was in line to take his fathers place, to be the next Lord Death, he had so much he wanted to do, hell, he'd admitting to Soul that he wouldn't mind spending the rest of his life with him—

Oh…

Now he understands.

The smile, that one, ominous smile that sat to his features even in death, he understood why now.

Because he had spent the rest of his life with the weapon, down to his dying mark. He was right there, beside him, holding his hand and begging for him to live, just to hold on until they got him medical attention.

Now it all made sense…

Feeling his heart sink down to the pit of his stomach hands slammed onto the wall, head ducking down as tears dripped out of crimson hues, fingers curling into to make fists as he just sobbed. He didn't care how loud he was, if his partner could hear him, or even the neighbors—He just couldn't hold it in anymore. His whole body shook, breaths being taking in quick and shaky, eyes squeezing shut as he let out one, rippling yell of agony and pure heartache.

The one he entrusted his heart with—No, not his soul even, but his _heart_, was gone, and Soul understood everything now.


End file.
